Everything Moves Real Slow When It's Forty Below
by sunsetdreamer
Summary: One particularly cold evening, Cam is hit with yet another sign that she should maybe quit smoking. A  really late  "Snowed In" Bonesology challenge response.


This was supposed to be my response to the "Snowed In" Challenge over at Bonesology (proposing three characters getting stuck somewhere due to snowy weather) except I accidentally missed the deadline. Even though I finished a day or two early. Fail. It is... different, lol. Don't take it seriously. Booth and Brennan are my go-to characters, but when I read the challenge I was like, "Hey Ren, you know what you should do? You should **challenge **yourself. You should go outside your comfort zone." Soo I picked Booth, Cam and Sweets (with a sprinkling of Brennan because I'm only human and couldn't help it); worst idea I've ever had. I will never venture outside my comfort zone again. You should probably thank rmcbuckeye for calmly suggesting that it might maybe be a bad idea to kill off Sweets simply because he frustrated me.

Also, I got Twitter! I wanted to be cool like all the other Bones writers/readers. You can converse with me at _sunsetdreamer if you so desire, and help me build some mad twittering (tweeting?) skills.

* * *

**Everything Moves Real Slow When It's Forty Below**

_In a fix? In a bind?  
Call on us anytime.  
We'll appear from nowhere,  
mighty are we._

_**Disney's The Rescuers**_

Cam glanced out the wide window before her and sighed. The snow was coming down harder than it had fallen an hour ago, and she was willing to bet that it would be falling harder still twenty minutes from now. This was the way her life went. She'd go as far as to say that the universe conspired against her, but that sort of melodrama was Booth's trademark, not hers. As she was staring at her watch and trying to calculate her odds of getting out of the lab before the roads became a total mess, her cell phone began to chime and her heart sank a little.

"Hey."

The greeting was informal despite the fact that she hadn't checked the display before picking up. Truth be told, she had been preparing herself for this all afternoon.

"Hey, pretty girl."

Cam raised an eyebrow and placed her free hand on her hip. "The thing with flattery, Paul, is that it tends to lose effectiveness with overuse."

"Is that your way of telling me it's lost _all_ effectiveness?"

Cam smiled and then rolled her eyes. "Not quite," she bantered, "but you're cutting it awfully close, Dr. Lidner."

"I'll make it up to you."

He skipped the part where in the past he would have given a detailed account of the circumstances preventing him from meeting her as planned, because that had only ever served to make Cam feel a twinge of guilt for selfishly cursing the timing of the city's pregnant population.

"You bet your ass you will," Cam replied in a light and teasing tone that in no way went further than surface deep. She was really tired of this pattern, and the crappy weather outside wasn't making her feel especially charitable.

They rescheduled for Sunday morning, deciding on a breakfast date that Cam was pretty sure _she _would be the one to cancel last minute due to a body being found in a pizza oven or something. Time would tell. By the time she slipped her phone back into her lab coat, irritation was running rampant. She had been doing a really good job as of late resisting the urge to smoke (dating a non-smoking doctor made the relief provided by the cigarette hardly worth the lecture) but damn it, these were extenuating circumstances, and she wouldn't be seeing Paul tonight anyway. She was a grown woman, and if she felt like smoking there wasn't a soul in the world that had the right to try and stop her.

Decision made, Cam turned away from the windows and walked the short distance down the corridor to her office in search of her coat and the pack of cigarettes she kept buried in her bottom desk drawer. She made sure to secure them safely in a zipped pocket; Vincent Nigel-Murray was acting as Brennan's intern this week, and she wouldn't chance sparking a lengthy outpouring of lung cancer statistics should he cross her path on her way to the roof. However, it wasn't Nigel-Murray that captured her attention as she tried to make her escape; it was Brennan.

Were it not for the immediate expression of guilt that flooded Brennan's face as she passed, Cam wouldn't have had any reason to even slow down. She was tempted to just continue on and pretend she hadn't noticed, but while Brennan wasn't Hodgins, this was usually the way explosions and slimy messes began. If she had to stay in this lab _one _more minute than was absolutely necessary today due to yet another lockdown, someone was getting fired.

"Dr. Brennan."

Brennan halted in her tracks and turned to meet Cam's eye with an awkward-but-endearing smile that Cam _knew _she must have picked up from Booth. Or possibly Angela. "Hello, Dr. Saroyan."

Cam couldn't help but smirk; she had been immune to Booth's charm smile for years, and Brennan's efforts were child's play in comparison. Although, on another day, she might have found this attempt kind of adorable. "What are you doing?"

"I am working," Brennan answered.

"On...?"

"Bones."

The faint trace of amusement disappeared swiftly. Cam crossed her arms and shifted her weight with obvious impatience. "Neither one of us is leaving this spot until you tell me what it is you're trying so hard to hide from me."

Any other day, this Mexican standoff could have continued long into the night, but Cam was lucky. She had no way of knowing that Brennan actually had plans for the evening, and this was one time the anthropologist wasn't up to remaining rooted to the spot for as long as it took for Cam to give in first.

Brennan glared and then very reluctantly parted her pursed lips. "It's not a big deal, Cam..."

* * *

Booth whistled lowly as he gathered his take-home items and assembled them into a messy pile. The weather was getting worse and he was beginning to doubt that he'd be able to swing the night on the town he had planned for this evening, but there were merits to staying in as well, and he wasn't complaining. He was just glad the day was over and he could finally go home. He glanced at his watch in response to the sudden vibrations of his phone on the desk, and he winced at the time as he picked up.

"Hey. I know, I'm running late. I had some last minute things-

"That's fine; to be honest, I am relieved to hear that you have yet to leave."

Curiosity piqued, Booth wedged the phone against his shoulder and freed both hands to continue gathering the last of his things. "Why? What's up?"

"Would you be very upset if you were further delayed from going home?"

"I don't know, Bones," Booth grinned, "I have a pretty hot date tonight... this girl is just... wow. You don't know what you're asking."

"What? But..." there was a pause on the other end of the line, and then Brennan's voice resumed. "... that's very amusing, Booth," she finished dryly.

"I'm a pretty amusing guy. Did you need me to pick something up on my way? I know we were going to go out for dinner, but I'm thinking we should try and stay indoors tonight. It's getting nasty out there."

"I find that proposition acceptable. But," she gave a frustrated sigh, "I think you should consider stopping at the lab first."

"What? Why? Did you forget something?"

"No..."

"What is it then?"

"I think that, maybe, you should speak with Cam."

"Cam?" Booth echoed. "Why?"

"She seemed upset when I left, and I find that I have not been able to put her odd behaviour out of my mind since coming home."

"Then why didn't _you_ say something to her?"

"_Because_," the frustration in Brennan's tone increased, "you are much closer to her than I am. I did not want to make things worse. Besides, she's very angry with me right now."

"Is that what this is about? You pissed off Cam and now you want me to go make nice with her for you? No way, Bones. There are a lot of things I'm willing to do for you, but that's not one of them."

"No! That's not- never mind. Forget I mentioned it."

Booth was already halfway out the door, but he reluctantly turned and dumped his armful of work back on his desk with an audible sigh. She had captured his full attention. "What's going through your head, Bones?"

He heard her take a deep breath. "This morning, I was working on a set of World War II remains from bone storage."

"Okay."

"And then _Cam _decided that I should focus on a set of remains that has been shipped to us from out of state for authentication."

"Oh boy."

"She vetoed my free pass, Booth. You know I hate it when she does that."

"Uh huh."

"So I worked on her remains until she was sufficiently preoccupied with other work, and then I went back to the World War II soldier."

"So you _are _the one who put Cam out of sorts in the first place."

"But she _yelled _at me," Brennan sounded affronted. "I ignore her instructions all the time and very rarely does it end in her raising her voice."

Booth chuckled. "I wouldn't worry about it, Bones. You probably just stretched her tolerance a little too thin today, you know? You have a tendency to do that on occasion."

There was another pause, and Booth tried to guess whether she was insulted or merely weighing his logic. One thing was for sure; he didn't expect the timid, halting shift in her temperament.

"Would you consider 'humouring me,' as you put it? As a favour? I will ensure that you are more than adequately compensated."

"Bones!" Booth tried to sound shocked, but happiness was coursing so quickly throughout his entire being, it proved impossible to keep it out of his voice. "Are you playing the girlfriend card _and _the sex card simultaneously?"

"That was not my intention, but if that is what it will take to positively influence your decision, then I am comfortable with that interpretation."

"I bet," Booth smiled. He glanced out his office window to the blizzard outside and gave an amused shake of his head; he didn't know why he was even pretending there was a decision to be made. He was clearly going to stop by the Jeffersonian. Hell, he'd spend the night there if she asked him. "Alright, I'm heading over now. I'll stop at my place afterward to change and then come see you."

"You could come straight here, if you want," she suggested casually. "You left a pair of jeans here the other night, and I washed them for you."

His lip quirked upward to form an affectionate half smile. "I'd like that."

He could imagine the slow flush creeping across her cheeks, and she cleared her throat lightly. "I will see you soon. Would you like pizza for dinner? I can order now; given the state of the roads, I assume that it will take longer than usual for delivery. I believe it would be accurate to say that it will most likely arrive shortly after you do."

"Sounds good. I'll see you in a bit, babe."

He hung up before she could protest the epithet.

* * *

Booth sighed for perhaps the sixth or seventh time since entering the lab. He couldn't find Cam anywhere, and her phone was sitting in plain sight atop her desk, so calling/texting her was a bust. His phone buzzed in his hand, but when Sweets' name flashed across the screen he hit ignore with very minimal guilt. He didn't want to talk to the psychologist right now; it was nothing against Sweets necessarily, but he had already entered his 'weekend' mode and he was distracted by thoughts of his partner. He didn't want to risk Sweets' deducing something about the change in their relationship because he couldn't muster the concentration to be fully on his guard. This thing between them was still so new he couldn't bear the thought of anything or anyone threatening it in any manner. He wanted to protect what was theirs for just a little bit longer, because he knew how easily, how swiftly, it could all slip away from him without the proper care.

He poked his head into yet another empty room and then sighed for the seventh or eighth time. He would have contemplated giving up and going home about ten minutes ago if he wasn't so sure that failure to complete his mission would land him in fairly deep trouble with his girlfriend of less than a month. Sex had just come _on _the table, he wasn't ready to see it yanked off just yet. So he wandered around aimlessly for a few minutes more before he had a sudden flash of memory to versions of himself and Cam from a long, _long _time ago. You could take the girl out of the Bronx, but there really was no taking the Bronx out of the girl.

* * *

He reached the top of the service staircase easily enough, but when he pushed against the door, it was stuck shut. Booth frowned and tried a second time with a touch more force, and he finally stumbled through the open doorway after his third attempt had him hurling the full weight of his body into the reinforced steel. He made out Cam's tiny form against the building ledge through the thickly falling snow and rolled his eyes.

"Really, Cam?" he shouted to be heard above the wind. "It hardly seems worth it."

Cam turned toward his voice and flipped him off with her free hand.

Booth laughed heartily in spite of the cold and, as an afterthought, dusted off a piece of pipe sticking out of the snow and wedged it in the doorframe.

She held the smoke in her lungs and then exhaled slowly as she waited for Booth to reach her side. "What are you doing here?"

Booth shrugged noncommittally. "A certain employee of yours is feeling a little guilty in regards to a battle of wills that apparently went down today."

Cam laughed. "And she sent you over here to do her dirty work? That doesn't sound like the Dr. Brennan I know."

"She's worried about you, Cam." Booth said, suddenly serious.

Cam sighed and took another deep inhale. "I never thought I'd say this, but I think I kind of miss the way she used to be honest to God oblivious to absolutely everything."

He smirked. "What's going on?"

"We're really going to talk about this now?"

"Yeah, we probably should. Before you finish off that whole damn pack."

"Oh alright. Well, at least get over here and block the wind for me."

Booth smiled and obligingly pulled Cam into his side, effectively sheltering her from the worst of the bitter cold. She sighed contently, then threw down her cigarette butt in disgust and stamped it out. Yes, littering was as uncouth as smoking in this day and age, but Booth wasn't going to judge her. He never did.

"Paul cancel on you again?" Booth ventured.

This time her sigh was one of resignation. "I'm tired, Seeley," she confessed. "I know we've talked about this, and Paul and I both make efforts, but, today has just been an all around bad day and it's just a little more than I would like to deal with at the moment."

Booth nodded and rubbed a hand up and down her arm. "He really digs you, Cam. You two are a good fit."

"I know," her voice was a near whine. "Why does it have to be so complicated? I'm a pretty good girlfriend, right? Why can't it be as easy as it always was with us?"

"You damn well know why," Booth snorted. "We were comfortable; like sweatpants. And figuring out how good we were at sex sort of sealed the deal. We've always had fun together, Cam, but it's nothing like what you have with Paul."

Nothing like what he had with Bones.

He just barely stopped himself from saying it aloud; he wasn't accustomed to censoring himself with Cam.

Cam gave a snort of her own as she thought to some of their more questionable past ideas of 'fun'. "The fact that you and I ended up in law enforcement? It makes me wary sometimes. Do you ever look at other cops and wonder if all their pasts are as spotty as ours?"

Booth groaned. "We're not going there. We were kids. Dumb kids. We were about the same age as _Sweets_ was when he started here. And for the record; _I _never did anything illegal."

He stared at her knowingly and Cam scowled. "You're going to hold that over me forever, aren't you? It was _once_, and I never tried it again."

"No wonder you're still a degenerate smoker."

"Shut up."

"I wonder what the squints would say if they learned their esteemed leader was once a pot abusing delinquent?"

"Probably about the same thing they'd say if they learned their FBI liaison was banned from that public pool for getting caught swimming in it drunk and naked," Cam answered smoothly.

Booth frowned. "Blackmail is kind of pointless between us, isn't it?"

"We're at a permanent stalemate," she agreed.

"Right. Okay, are you feeling better? Can we go now? It's really cold. And if I get locked in this place one more time because of weather or diseases or dumbass squints blowing shit up, I'm going to kill myself."

Cam gave a bemused shake of her head, because she really _did _feel just a little bit better, but before she could give Booth an answer, the door opened again and Sweets came into view.

"Hey guys," he greeted cheerfully. "What's going on?" His attention shifted toward the city skyline before either Booth or Cam could give him an answer, and with a wide grin and a lively step, Sweets leaned over the ledge beside them. "Oh this is awesome! How have I never been up here before?"

"Because it's for grown-ups only, Sweets," Booth shot off automatically. "It's not a playground. And would you stop leaning over like that? You're going to break every bone in your scrawny little body."

Sweets grinned even as Booth yanked the back of his collar. "You know what's kind of cool? The way you show such concern for my well being even as you insult me."

"Next time I'll let you fall over; it'll save me the hassle of shooting you. What are you doing up here, anyway?"

"Oh. You didn't answer your phone, so I called Dr. Brennan and she told me you were at the lab consulting with Dr. Saroyan. Then that security guy said he saw her come up here about ten minutes ago, so I gave it a shot. Man, this is wicked cool."

Booth shot Cam an incredulous look, but she merely shrugged and raised her palms. The message was clear; she was done babysitting for the day. This was all on him.

"What did you need, Sweets?"

"Huh? Oh, right. I wanted to give you that profile for the McNeil case before you left for the weekend." Booth stared at him expectantly, and then Sweets' smile slipped. "I, uh, I left it beside the coffee machine."

Cam rolled her eyes. "Lead the way, Sweets."

She made sure to follow closely behind Booth, once again using his broad body as a shield. After her run-in with Brennan she had become sidetracked by a good number of things before she had found the opportunity to escape to the roof, and she was looking forward to wrapping up a few e-mails and then heading home. Barring the discovery of a body, she doubted any of her staff would be making an appearance at the lab again before Monday morning.

Sweets pulled on the door and his brows creased slightly when it didn't budge. He pressed a little harder on the release mechanism above the handle and then jerked on it again, but the end result was no different.

Booth peered over his shoulder. "Today would be great, Sweets."

Sweets turned to face him at about the same time Booth noticed that the piece of pipe he had used to keep the door ajar had been kicked to the side and was all but completely buried. He clenched his fists and forced a few deep breaths before attempting to speak.

"You didn't think that maybe there was a reason the door wasn't shut all the way when you came up here?" he questioned with careful neutrality.

"I totally didn't even notice... I tripped over something though..."

Booth pushed him out of the way and yanked on the door. And then he tried again. And again. Sighing, he shoved his hands in his pockets and turned to Cam.

"Tell me you're kidding," Cam demanded. Booth shook his head and she pulled her sad excuse for a jacket tighter around her. "It stuck a little for me, but I got it open without any real problem."

Booth yanked viciously on the handle one last time. "The lock's probably frozen. It gave me a bit of trouble too... hence why I put the pipe there." He glared accusingly at Sweets.

The psychologist held up his hands in surrender. "Okay, far be it from me to start pointing fingers, but I wouldn't have even had to come looking for you if you had just answered your phone."

"One of you better get it open, and fast," Cam snapped irritably.

"Well, Camille," Booth gave another forceful pull, "if it were as easy as that, I'd've done it already."

"Then we implement some basic problem solving, people. We can call the security desk and have someone force the door open from the inside. I'm assuming at least one of you has a phone handy?"

Sweets grimaced. "Mine's with the McNeil profile. Next to the coffee machine."

Booth grinned for the first time as he remembered that his phone was tucked in his jacket pocket; all was not lost. He pulled it out with flourish and waved it inches in front of Cam's face. Not at all amused, Cam snatched it out of his hands and immediately began browsing his contact list.

"Where's the number for the front desk?"

Booth's face fell. "Oh."

"Oh?"

He shifted uncomfortably. "It's not in there." Off Cam's look of disbelief, Booth frowned. "What reason do I ever have to call the front desk? You, Bones, Hodgins, Angela... if one of you four can't help me, no one else at the lab is going to be able to do it. You're telling me you don't know it off by heart?"

"It's in my phone," Cam muttered lamely.

"So much for basic problem solving."

"Can I see that for a second?" Sweets made a grab for Booth's phone without waiting for an answer. "We can just look up the contact number on the internet and then go through the directory."

"Good luck with that," Cam scoffed. "The directory will only take you as far as the general lines... which are not answered after six pm. We need the direct line."

Booth grabbed his phone back from Sweets and hit a single button. "This is ridiculous; I'm calling Bones."

"I find it interesting that you always manage to involve Dr. Brennan, regardless of whether or not the situation actually calls for it," Sweets chirped.

Booth shot him a warning look. "The situation _does _call for it, Sweets. She'll get here in maybe a half hour, and on the drive over she'll come up with at least three different ways to open that door. If you disagree, you can sit over there in the corner and come up with your own plan, but when Bones gets here first? You're not coming down with us."

"It was just an observation."

"Hey, Bones." Booth pointedly ignored Sweets' comment. "Yeah, I found her; she's good."

Cam would have smiled if her face wasn't frozen.

"Listen; we need your help..."

* * *

Sweets' cheerful attitude faded away after his first ten minutes in the blistering cold, but Cam was clearly suffering the most. Booth had handed over his scarf, gloves, and suit jacket, but he had kept his coat. He had informed Cam that he was teaching her a valuable lesson in dressing appropriately for winter. Because designer clothing was often not particularly conducive to warmth.

Cam probably would have had more to say about this if she wasn't so concerned that he might take what he _had _given her back. The thing with being the near lifelong friend and not the girlfriend, was that certain chivalric courtesies stopped applying to you. Damn it. If Dr. Brennan were the one up here, there wasn't a doubt in Cam's mind that Booth would have handed that coat over in a heartbeat. And his shirt. Probably his boots and socks too. This sucked.

Sweets was still pulling on the door in a manner that would have been comical if this whole situation had come to pass in July, and Booth was currently texting away and occasionally relaying updates as to Brennan's proximity to the lab.

"You know, I'm not really sure I'm okay with you looking so perky while I'm wallowing in self-pity and misery."

Booth tamped down his smile (with no small amount of effort) and met Cam's sharp eye. "Bones made a joke; it was actually funny."

"Should she really be texting right now?"

He shrugged. "She's coasting behind a snowplow. Parker could drive the car at the speed she's going."

Sweets took a break from his battle with the stubborn door. "Don't you think it's weird that you just assumed Dr. Brennan didn't have something else to do on a Friday night?" He took a reflexive step back from Booth under the agent's intimidating stop-psychoanalysing-us-or-else stare. "I mean, I'm grateful and all, but your tone on the phone indicated that you expected her to be home with no other plans. You didn't even ask her if she was busy first."

"Yeah, Bones said you'd mention that," Booth informed him casually before dropping his gaze to his phone.

"She did?"

"Uh huh," he answered without looking up. "Now she's saying that your excessive interest in our partnership is exceptionally tiresome and increasingly difficult to endure."

"That's not what she said."

Cam was almost tempted to intervene – not because she particularly cared, but because it had become a habit over five and a half years of playing mediator and parent to overgrown children – but in her opinion, it really was Sweets' fault that they were stuck up here. Also, again, she wasn't risking losing her scarf and gloves.

Sweets cleared his throat. "Booth?"

Booth fiddled with his phone, seemingly oblivious to Sweets' careful study of his face. "She thinks maybe you should sort out your drama with Daisy instead of trying to counsel us."

"She definitely didn't say that," Sweets concluded with certainty.

Booth's phone vibrated again and he glanced at it quickly. "She also says that this would have never happened had she been here instead of you," he continued without missing a beat.

Sweets frowned. "You're not even speaking to her, are you?"

The phone buzzed again, and this time Booth gave Sweets an update without even looking at the display. "Now she's saying that when she gets here, she will only let you out on the condition that you leave me the hell alone."

"Ha! See? I totally knew you weren't talking about me."

Sweets resumed his attack on the door, and Cam studied Booth in order to distract herself from the fact that she was fucking frozen and her shivers were now closer to convulsions. When they got out of here, she was going to buy a real winter coat. And she wasn't even going to care how unflattering it looked as long as it provided more warmth than the stupid chic jacket she had decided to put on that morning.

Barking at Sweets was second nature to Booth, but his eyes were soft and Cam could tell that despite the cold, he was far away from here. He was somewhere about fifteen minutes away with an anthropologist possessing a hidden heart of gold. She hadn't seen him smile to himself the way he was doing now in a really long time. And suddenly, Cam knew exactly why Booth had been so confident that Brennan would be home and available. She also knew exactly why Brennan had folded so quickly earlier on.

Y_ou should put on your gloves and protect your fingers. The increase in typing errors in your messages leads me to believe that your fine motor skills are being compromised._

_I'm fine. You're almost here anyway._

_Frostbite is very serious, Booth._

_You worry too much._

_You would not enjoy having your phalanges amputated._

"You two are really doing this."

Cam's tone turned the sentence into a statement rather than a question, and Booth found himself swallowing hard as he pulled himself away from the text exchange. Suddenly, frostbite and phalange amputation were looking pretty good. He was absolutely certain that he and Brennan were doing the right thing, but that being said, Cam was his closest friend outside his partner and her opinion mattered to him. At the end of the day he would be going home to Brennan no matter what, but he'd rather have Cam's approval than a tongue lashing. She was way too good at making him feel like a child.

He chanced a glance at Sweets. "Yeah," he answered solemnly, once he was certain the psychologist's attention was still directed elsewhere. "We're really doing it."

Cam studied his eyes and then her own expression relaxed as she nodded. "Good." She withdrew the pack of cigarettes from her coat pocket and played with the box, but she made no move to light a new one. "I'm happy for you, Seeley."

Booth grinned widely. "Thanks, Camille."

She smiled back and they had one of their silent exchanges that came so naturally after being friends for closing in on twenty years.

"Just, try to curb that impulsiveness of yours, alright? No more proposals, no more ultimatums... you two are running out of second chances, and you need to think before you act. And don't let her flee the country again; she's a lot more grown up than you give her credit for sometimes, and she needs to know that she can't run away just because she feels overwhelmed."

"Anything else, mom?" Booth smirked.

Cam gazed up at him intently. "You have the biggest, strongest heart out of all of us, and we rely on that. It may not be fair to you, but it's the truth. You ever throw off our balance by locking it away again, and I'll kick your ass."

"Jeez, Cam. Tell me how you really feel."

"And please, _please_, for the love of God, do _not _let me catch the two of you having sex anywhere in my lab," she pleaded. "The next time I'm subjected to a sextape featuring friends and coworkers, I'm uploading it to YouTube."

"That's a little harsh, don't you think?"

"You watch Angela and Hodgins get it on in the Egyptian room, and then you tell me that's too harsh. Those images are in my head for life, Booth. If YouTube is what it takes to get my point across, I'll do it."

He chuckled. "You're a good friend, Cam."

Cam gave him a half smile and then she hopped up and down impatiently. "Now, how about an estimated time of arrival on your girlfriend, hmm?"

Booth grinned at the word 'girlfriend' and looked down at his phone, but it began buzzing repeatedly before he could begin pestering Brennan for an update. His smile widened as he picked up, and Cam wondered how she hadn't noticed this change in him before.

"Please tell me you're here...Yeah, that's great; I'll get Sweets to back away from the door so that he doesn't get knocked unconscious – not that he doesn't deserve it..."

At the mention of his name, Sweets tuned in and wandered the few feet back to where Cam and Booth were standing. Cam heaved a relieved sigh and allowed herself to dream of hot baths and heavy duvets, but then her head snapped back to attention as she caught the next snippets of conversation.

"You brought what? Bones, she's not going to like that... well of course I want to get out of here, but... all I'm trying to say is... okay. I said okay! Just hurry."

Cam watched him expectantly as he tucked his phone back into his pocket. When he turned his charm smile on full throttle, she groaned. "What? What is she doing?"

"The important thing is, she's on her way up. With security. I'm sure they'll get the door open before she has a chance to use the tools she lifted from Hodgins' office."

"This is going to be good," Sweets laughed.

Cam glared at him, "You know, if you-

-hadn't moved the pipe, I know, I know. But let's be honest, Dr. Saroyan; I wouldn't have been up here in the first place if it wasn't for Booth. And Booth wouldn't be up here if it wasn't for you. And _you _wouldn't be up here if you had been able to hold off on your cigarette craving until you got home." Cam was rendered speechless, and Sweets smirked. "Yeah, we all know you smoke. It's not nearly as well kept a secret as you think."

"Okay," Booth interjected, "We've made it forty five minutes without killing each other... let's not blow it in the last five, alright? Bones is going to be smug enough; if she opens that door and finds us coming apart at the seams, we are never going to live it down."

"He's right," Sweets admitted reluctantly.

"Definitely."

"So we're in agreement, then?"

"Yes."

"Yeah."

There was a brief silence, and then Cam cleared her throat. "If you really think about it, it's _Paul's _fault..."

"Let it go, Camille. Let it go."


End file.
